Changeling

My grandmother shouted for Dr. Wilmingham but he was already there, kneeling beside Jenny.

There was pandemonium.

Lucie was in a state of shock and it was to her that Dr. Wilmingham gave his care. There was no saving Jenny.

She had given her life for the child’s.

What a terrible ending to that never-to-be-forgotten Christmas.

I was relieved to discover that Lucie was not as badly hurt as I had feared. Jenny had been so quick to beat out the fire with her own body that all the child had suffered from were a few superficial burns which Dr. Wilmingham was able to deal with.

Pedrek too had burns on his hands but fortunately nothing serious.

Leah had taken Belinda away. I was wondering what effect this would have on her. Did she realize that she was responsible for one death and might have been for another?

We should have to talk very seriously to Belinda; but at the moment Lucie was our concern. I asked that she should be put in my bed that I might be with her throughout the night. I wondered what we were going to tell her. There was the even more pressing problem of what would become of her.

At the moment she was deeply shocked and in some pain from the burns. I knew my presence comforted her to a great extent and I was glad that I had had the foresight to insist that she was put into my bed.

What a strangely long day that was. Lucie was given a sedative and I was glad she slept.

Gathered downstairs were my grandparents with Pedrek and his family with the Wilminghams. Jack and Marian had thought it best to take the children home and all the other young people had left also.

“What a terrible thing to happen,” said my grandmother. “It is that child I’m thinking of most.”

“Miraculously she is not badly hurt … physically,” said Dr. Wilmingham. “That heroic woman saw to that. But naturally this sort of thing is a great shock to the system. We shall have to watch that. The poor child has lost her mother. I don’t know what will come out of this.”

“The question will be what will become of her?” said my grandmother.

“We shall see that she is all right, won’t we, Granny?” I said.

She nodded reassuringly. “Poor, poor little thing. She was so happy watching the conjuror.”

“And Belinda …” I began.

There was silence.

My grandmother said at length: “Leah was so anxious about her.”

“Anxious about her!” I cried. “She was the one who caused it all. What is she going to think? Jenny Stubbs … dead … because of her.”

“I know,” said my grandmother. “It’s a terrible thing to happen to a child.”

“She deliberately took the candle and set fire to Lucie’s dress.”

“Children don’t understand the dangers of fire. She’s very young … and seeing all those tricks … she probably thought she was going to transform Lucie into a dragon or something.”

“We mustn’t be too hard on her,” said my grandfather. “Something like this could scar a child’s mind for ever.”

“I know,” agreed my grandmother. “It’s a terrible situation. It was my fault for giving Lucie Belinda’s dress.”

My grandfather said: “Oh come. Don’t let’s start blaming ourselves. We would all have done anything to avert such a tragedy.”

“I am glad Lucie is with you, Rebecca,” said my grandmother.

“If she awakened in the night, she wouldn’t know where she was … so I thought it best …”

“Yes, you are right.”

Silence fell upon us. We were all thoughtful—every one of us preoccupied with Lucie and the terrible tragedy which had come upon us.

I lay beside the child, thankful that she was still sleeping. She looked very young and vulnerable. I wanted to weep for the cruelty of life which had taken my mother from me … as Lucie’s had been taken from her. That made me feel doubly close to the child.

I would be there when she awoke. I would hold her tightly and comfort her.

On that Christmas night I had a strange experience. I was not sure whether I was awake or sleeping. I thought I was awake but afterwards I supposed I could not have been, for it seemed to me that my mother was in the room. Remembering back I did not see her but I almost felt that I did. It was just that I knew she was there. I did not hear her voice but the words were in my mind. She was calling to me … telling me what I must do.

I lay there, my heart pounding. I was exultant suddenly because she was with me … because she had come back. I tried to call out to her but I did not hear my voice.

I just know that she was with me … urging me to act.

I was wide awake. The room was silent. The child was still sleeping beside me. I could see the shapes of the furniture in the pale moonlight.

I got out of bed and put on my dressing gown and slippers.

“Where are you, Mama … dearest Mama, where are you?” I whispered.

There was no answer.

I went to the window and looked out. There was moonlight on the sea; I listened to the silence all around me, broken only by the gentle swishing of the waves.

I could not stay in my room. Some impulse made me go to the door. I looked out. All was quiet. I went down the great staircase to the hall.